We
by Bebe Flow
Summary: The aftermath of the war is not as peaceful as it would seem. Unbidden love blossoms between a certain know-it-all and her former professor, and a Weasley family dilemma complicates things.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi everybody! I began posting this fanfiction on my previous account, Repello Muggletum. For some reason, I have been unable to log into that account or recover its password since sometime last year. I hope my reposting it here doesn't annoy anyone too much! Anyway, even though I haven't worked on it in almost a year, I fully intend to finish this story sometime in the next three months._

* * *

We,  
A Harry Potter FanFiction by Bebe Flow,  
In which Severus Snape and Hermione Granger are brought together with the help of a few friends.  
This story takes place in the aftermath of the war, in which Voldemort has been defeated. Some characters have been allowed to live; others have been left in their graves. Still others who had once lived have now been killed. That is why it is fiction. I hope you enjoy. Without further ado...

* * *

**We  
Chapter One**

The Great Hall was beautifully decorated. The house-elves had really outdone themselves this time. A menu was set in front of each chair at the long table, written in gold glowing calligraphy. The table occupants, who happened to be members of the Order of the Phoenix, were to choose a dish of their choice from the menu and say it out loud, at which time the dish would appear on their plate. _Like at the Yule Ball_, Hermione mused, feeling a pang of nostalgia intertwined with amusement, as the thought brought back memories of Viktor Krum.

The dinner was to be celebratory, but the mood was somber. The Wizarding World was still totaling its loses, and there were many. Remus Lupin had died defending his family's home. Rubeus Hagrid was murdered at Voldemort's wand. Luna Lovegood had been overtaken by Bellatrix Lestrange only moments before Lestrange's own death… It had been a long road, coming to terms with these deaths, but Hermione was comforted by the reassurance that at least they were not in vain. But sometimes she could still see the bodies piled up, the flashes of green light filling the corridors… At those times, Hermione deeply wished she didn't feel so alone…

Harry, of course, had Ginny. They were perfect for each other, anyone could see. In the weeks following the end of the war, Hermione and Ron had decided that things weren't working out between them. It hadn't been easy to deal with, but in the face of all those deaths, all that destruction, it seemed wrong to live a lie. So she was alone, studying day in and day out for her N.E.W.T. exams, which were to be administered in January. The Ministry had made special accommodations for those students whose educations had been interrupted by the war.

Hermione was seated two seats from Severus Snape, but the seat between them, belonging to Dedalus Diggle, was empty. He was off trying to get Filch to search the castle for his top hat. Though she had planned everything out in her head, Hermione was nervous. Never one to succumb to nerves, however, Hermione turned to the man at her right. "Professor," she said.

The man looked up from his meal and glanced to the left, toward the voice. "Miss Granger," he said with a curt nod.

The woman tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear and smiled. "I was wondering if you would accompany me to the Ministry ceremony."

Snape was barely conscious of the commotion around him at this point. _Why would this woman ask _me_ to such an event_? The war had made Severus Snape a suspicious man. When he had been lifted from Azkaban in the day following Voldemort's demise, he half-expected a group at the entrance, waiting for him so they could point and laugh before demanding that he be taken away or beheaded or given the Kiss. Before that, Snape assumed he would be left to rot in the dripping inner chambers of the prison. That being said, it came as quite a surprise to him when he flicked his gaze around the room he was led to and found Albus Dumbledore smiling at him, blue eyes watery. The tired-looking wizard had stepped toward Snape and with one motion had wrapped his arms around him, clapping his hand against Snape's back. "Severus…" Dumbledore breathed, loosening his hold and stepping back. "We did it, my boy. We did it."

That had shaken Snape. Even while Dumbledore apologized for his capture by unknowing Ministry workers, Snape paid no attention. _We? Where do I fit into the equation? Potter defeated the Dark Lord…I was merely an instrument, used by both sides, trusted by neither. I belong to Azkaban._ It had shaken Snape even more when he'd received a letter from the Ministry three months after the close of the war, just three days ago:

_Dear Mr. Snape:_

_It is with great honor and privilege that I write to you, on behalf of the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, to inform you of your official recognition as a title-holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class award. You have been recommended for the award by the International Wizards Council for the Recognition of Honors and, as of 29 August, 1998, will be officially inducted into the Ministry records as a recipient._

_Please join us, on 29 August at 7:00PM in the Ministry Ballroom, First Floor, Ministry Headquarters, to celebrate the awarding of this prestigious honor to yourself and several others._

_Sincerely,_

_Delphius Hattlebotham_

_Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic_

Snape had snorted derisively after he'd read the letter, fully intending to throw it into the fire and forget he had ever gotten it. However, just as he reached the fireplace, a head appeared between two flames. "Severus, my boy!" was Dumbledore's jovial greeting. "Kingsley told me the news!" It took a moment for Severus to figure out what the old man's words meant, but when it dawned on him, fury mingling with trepidation filled his veins. Albus Dumbledore had significant sway with the International Wizards Council for the Recognition of Honors, being that he was an Order of Merlin holder himself. The blasted meddling man had practically recommended Snape himself!

"As if you didn't know," said Snape. He loomed over the fireplace clutching his wand in his pocket, ready to cast a quick _Aguamenti _the moment he decided Dumbledore overstayed his welcome.

"I certainly did not," Albus said. Then, as if reading Snape's mind, "You earned this on your own, my friend. Be proud." The flames grew higher and Dumbledore disappeared. Snape stared into the flames for a moment and tossed the letter in.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Snape looked at Hermione. Her body language was open, and she eyed him curiously. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but still… The old reservoir of doubt flooded the man's heart and mind. "I hadn't planned on going, Miss Granger."

Hermione seemed to be expecting this answer, for she gave another smile and nodded her head. The light from the torches lining the walls of the Great Hall bounced off of her loose curls. "I hate to sound desperate, sir, but Ron and Harry both have dates already, and I don't want to be the only one there alone, with no one to dance with…"

"While I'm sure it would be devastating to your ego, Miss Granger, to have no one to dance with, I still cannot accept your offer." Snape turned away from her and set about eating his food again. He intended to go back to the dungeons for a while after supper, to work on a few potions Poppy needed for the hospital wing. After that, he'd walk to Hogsmeade and Apparate over to Spinner's End, to see about fixing it up. It had fallen into disuse after the war, and though school would be in session soon enough, Snape still wanted to see it fixed before winter set in.

The conversation continued around him, for a while. Then, "Severus also has no dancing partner, Hermione! Might I suggest you accompany each other?" Dumbledore beamed at the two from the head of the table. Snape leaned back in his chair a little, trying to hide behind Diggle, but he could still be seen, even with the addition of Diggle's hat (found by Pomona Sprout in a second floor lavatory).

"I've already asked him, Albus, but he seems content to go alone, or not at all," Hermione said. Everything was playing into her hand.

"Nonsense! Severus, it would be very kind of you to accompany Hermione to the ceremony. I would do so myself, but as I'm presenting, I will be indisposed for much of the evening." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled into Snape's. Naturally, he knew that putting Severus on the spot would anger the man, but a Headmaster must have _some_ fun when the world isn't threatened and school is on holiday.

"Certainly, sir. I would be honored," Snape answered sardonically, shooting a fierce glare to Hermione. _How could I _not _say yes, with the entire party staring at me like that? _She beamed back at him and rejoined the conversation, whose topic was already shifting.

A bit later, as many of the dinner attendees were departing, Hermione approached Severus Snape. "Thank you for agreeing to go the Ministry ceremony with me, Professor," she said.

"It was not by choice, Miss Granger." Snape started walking out of the Great Hall. Hermione followed, struggling in her high heels to keep up with his long strides.

"You could have easily refused." He stopped abruptly at the entrance to the dungeons and turned toward her. A strange look glimmered in his dark eyes, but Hermione could not figure out what it was. _Anger? Desire? Repulsion? _She decided it was an even mix between the first and the last.

"No, Miss Granger, I could not have. Kindly remove yourself from my presence. I will see you next week." The man did not wait for Hermione to remove herself. If he had, it would have taken a long time. In fact, even as he strode away into the darkness, it only took Hermione several long strides to catch up with him.

"Please, I know you don't wish to escort me, but I do appreciate it. Let me make it up to you. How's a cup of tea in Hogsmeade tomorrow?" No response. "A butterbeer? Firewhisky?"

A violent shade of purple-red rose in Severus Snape's face. His eyes narrowed. His hands clenched into tight fists. "What makes you think, girl, that I would be willing to waste even one moment of my precious time with _you_? It is bad enough that I have been forced into accompanying you to a ridiculous Ministry event, but to spend so much as an _hour_ with you, eating crumpets and chatting?" He shook his head furiously. It was clear he wanted to go on insulting her, but something within him made him stop. "Good day, Miss Granger." He stormed off. Several seconds later, Hermione heard a loud _bang!_ from somewhere in the darkness.

If it had been a year earlier, Hermione probably would have dissolved into tears at the first word Snape uttered. But she had matured in the past months, and she no longer let anyone or anything stop her from reaching her goals. She returned to the Great Hall to say her goodbyes and headed for the Snidget Inn and Hogsmeade, a smirk decorating her face.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi everybody! I began posting this fanfiction on my previous account, Repello Muggletum. For some reason, I have been unable to log into that account or recover its password since sometime last year. I hope my reposting it here doesn't annoy anyone too much! Anyway, even though I haven't worked on it in almost a year, I fully intend to finish this story sometime in the next three months._

* * *

We,  
A Harry Potter FanFiction by Bebe Flow,  
In which Severus Snape and Hermione Granger are brought together with the help of a few friends.  
This story takes place in the aftermath of the war, in which Voldemort has been defeated. Some characters have been allowed to live; others have been left in their graves. Still others who had once lived have now been killed. That is why it is fiction. I hope you enjoy. Without further ado...

* * *

**Chapter Two**

It had not been difficult to find Spinner's End, especially the end at which Severus Snape hung his hat. Really, the neighborhood was not as depressed as it once had been. Cigarette butts littered the gutters, sure, and a few yards were in desperate need of weeding, but it was not so bad. Children slothed about, enjoying their last lazy days of the summer holidays, and a few older couples could be seen walking about their gardens.

As for the Snape abode, it was certainly a bit dingy, but (in the daylight, at least) it was definitely not the creepy haunted house Hermione had expected. A stately tree of unknown (but definitely Muggle) variety rested at the edge of the property, its rustling leaves and gently swaying branches betraying nothing about the activities that had recently gone on inside the dark little house.

Hermione opened the crookedly hung gate and walked up the path. Patches of grass sprang through the cracks in the concrete, and Hermione tripped once over a broken piece of the walkway jutting up from the ground. When she made it to the door, painted dark green, Hermione seized the door-knocker and, after cringing at the high-pitched squeak it emitted at being raised, tapped it against the door three times.

There were a few moments of silence, then a few quiet shuffling from within, followed by a deep sigh. It appeared that Snape was just inside the door. Hermione shifted from one foot to another, impatience setting in. _Did I really come all this way just to be turned down?_ She grabbed the knocker again and beat it against the door. Once. Twice. Then the rusty old knocker was ripped from her hands as the door swung open.

The disagreeable man had definitely not been expecting Hermione Granger of all people. Really, he hadn't been expecting _anyone_. Dumbledore surely had more pressing affairs to attend to so close to the start of the school year, and well… Snape didn't have too many other friends. He stood there for a few moments, not saying anything, blocking the doorway with his thin frame. He was wearing a pair of black trousers and a neatly pressed white button-down shirt. In the Muggle world, there was no way he would be considered informal, but compared to his usual manner of dress, this was downright casual… _Especially, _Hermione noted_, his rolled up sleeves and shoeless feet_.

"Professor," she said, trying hard not to peer over his shoulder to get a better look at what he'd been doing. "I thought I'd ask you again if you'd like to have tea."

"Miss Granger, I have not changed my mind like some fickle child. You may leave." He made a quick move to swing the door shut into her face, but Hermione was quicker.

"Please, I'd rea--"

He whirled around, closing in on Hermione until their faces were inches apart. Then, harshly, "I'm surprised you haven't brought along Dumbledore to ensure your begging will be rewarded. I suppose I'm fortunate. Now, I'm rather busy, so if there are no further interruptions…" Snape tried the same move again. Hermione stopped the door with her foot. She looked over his shoulder. There were some boxes on the floor, a large collection of books and other artifacts in a mound on the dingy sofa, and a broom leaning against the wall of the foyer.

"You don't care for some help? It looks like you have a full day of cleaning up ahead of you," Hermione said, trying a smile. Her eyes took in the features of Snape's face. His dark brows were knit into a V, at the point of which began his rather prominent nose, which led to the half-grimace, half-sneer that was the defining feature of the man's face at that moment.

"I don't think so."

"You must let me do something! It won't do to waste your last free Saturday of the summer cleaning!"

"I _don't _think so, Miss Granger. I'm almost through here, and plan to return to Hogwarts this afternoon. As I said last night," he said, looking unenthused, "I will see you next week."

Never one to give up easily, Hermione pressed on. "How about I make us a cup of tea. You do have tea in the house, I assume?" She inched her way forward, noting the way Snape's shoulders tensed up.

Severus was on the verge of bellowing a highly amplified "No!" in Hermione Granger's direction when he looked back into his home. There was still a lot to be done. There would certainly not be any returning to Hogwarts with that much dust coating his mantle, that many cobwebs decorating his corners… _Perhaps I can use Miss Granger's…help,_ he thought, cringing inwardly at the last word, at that moment deciding against it. _But I suppose a cup of tea would be tolerable._

"Very well, Miss Granger. One cup of tea." _Disgusting,_ he thought, noticing Hermione's wide grin. It was as if she knew she'd won, and it did nothing for Snape's mood.

He very politely walked back into the home without giving Hermione a second glance. She huffed, but followed quickly, careful not to kick through the pile of dirt in the entryway. They soon arrived in a very humble kitchen. It appeared that Snape had just finished cleaning it, for the counters gleamed, and there was still a shiny spot on the floor where, presumably, the mop water still hadn't dried completely. A rickety table sat under a window over the small yard in the back, on which Hermione placed her purse. She watched Snape rummage about the cabinets, his hands fumbling over this and that in his great hurry to have this over with.

When he had everything in order, Snape muttered, "Excuse me," and exited the room, leaving Hermione rather perplexed. She took the time to let her eyes travel around the room once more. There were no adornments on the walls, no shelves of colorful knick-knacks or paintings or family photos. _I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything else, but goodness! Not even any curtains?_ She supposed there must have been some drapes during his Death Eater days, surely something more lavish to impress the pure-bloods who were used to more expensive things… _No, Severus doesn't put up fronts to impress others. Not even Dumbledore…I wonder how Albus puts up with Snape when he's in his bad moods, even seems to _like_ him! There must be something more to these blank walls…_

Finally, Snape returned. He gave no apologies; actually, he said nothing at all, but at a glance Hermione noticed that he'd put some shoes on. She had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from chuckling. "Are you planning on selling this house, sir?"

"Who would buy this ghastly heap of rotting wood?" He was getting two cups out of a cabinet over the sink.

"It just needs a little fixing up. Where do you keep your sugar?" Snape jerked his head to the left by way of answering, and Hermione retrieved it.

"I have no intention of letting this place fall into the hands of a Muggle, Miss Granger."

"The war is over, Professor. You don't have to pretend to be a Muggle hater anymore. There are plenty of Muggles who are miles more intelligent than some wizards."

"I haven't met any." He brought the teapot over to the table. She brought the rest. They sat.

Hermione put three spoonfuls of sugar into her steaming cup. "Sugar?" Snape declined. She continued, "You haven't gotten to know any, though, have you?"

"I have gotten to know enough, Miss Granger."

Hermione gave an unladylike snort. "That's like saying you and Sirius Black are identical twins."

Snape rose, his jaw clenched. A dash of color spread onto his face. Hermione knew she'd made a mistake. "I will not have you comparing me to that _mongrel_ in my home! If you only came here to insult me, you can leave immediately!"

"Don't be such a dunderhead! You must know I didn't mean it to be offensive!" By now, the woman had risen as well, her cup of tea miserably forgotten on the rickety table.

By now, Snape's entire face had turned fiercely red. He said in the deadly whisper reminiscent of Hermione's school days, "How, Miss Granger, do you expect to win the cooperation of anyone you insult, no matter how poorly? Do not show up at my doorstep uninvited and presume your uninformed speeches about Muggles and wizards are going to have any affect whatsoever on me." The man all but stormed out of the room, leaving a furious Hermione alone in the kitchen, chest heaving with anger.

Naturally, her instinct was to follow. "Uninformed! _Uninformed_? I'll have you know, I have been studying under some of the best wizards and witches in Britain!"

Hermione could now see the true nature of the room she stood in. Where before, it was cluttered and dusty, now it looked _dark_. Hermione realized the things that must have gone on here; torture and killings in the still of night, malicious scheming… It only made sense for the Dark Lord's most trusted follower to have a major role in such things. The sofa, still piled high with various items, was run-down, propped up on one side with a thick book. There was a strange dark stain on the floor and wall in the corner beside a table, which held a lamp and an ominous looking _thing_. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a pair of shackles, joined together by a thick steel chain. And, horror of horrors, from under a pile of unassuming robes in an old wooden chair, peeked a Death Eater mask.

Hermione's heart seemed to stop for a moment, her breathing hitched. _I thought for sure the Ministry would have taken it away for evidence, or something. If he's getting rid of it, where on earth will it go?_

Snape, who had been banging around very loudly in a closet, ignoring the woman's words, stopped rummaging. Perturbed by her newfound silence, he whirled and followed Hermione's eyes to the mask. Then their eyes locked.

"Is that…?" uttered Hermione, quite unwilling to simply let it go. Of course, she knew Snape was completely loyal to the Order, but his task as a Death Eater both disturbed and _fascinated_ her. Even as a child, she had always been captivated by the strange and morbid.

"Yes, Miss Granger, it is," was Snape's reply. The stiffness of his tone matched his posture perfectly; he stood stock-still, hands clenched so tightly that Hermione noticed his knuckles had turned white.

"Who--wh--what're you going to do with it?"

Just like that, Snape's body lost its rigidity. He turned smoothly and seemed to billow across the room (though he wasn't wearing robes), to the pile containing the mask. "Don't be a dunderhead," he sardonically mimicked. "I'm going to toss it." He picked everything up, careful to tuck the mask into the folds of the old robes.

Hermione took a moment to get control of her speech. "I know someone who would be glad to take it off your hands. Morag MacDougal, she's on the Ministry Committee for Magical Monuments, is working on compiling relics from the war. You know, the toilet bowl Mundungus Fletcher stole from a Muggle junkyard, thinking it was a cauldron, Ron's broken wand… Things like that. I'm sure she'd love to have the mask of a hero."

"I certainly do _not_ want to take part in such a self-indulgent venture, Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter are heroes enough for MacDougal's ridiculous museum."

"It isn't ridiculous! Don't you want to be recognized for everything you've done?"

"No, Miss Granger, I would most certainly not." With that, Snape climbed the stairs without a look back, carrying his bundle from the chair. Hermione, very disappointed, let herself out. She didn't think it would be wise to follow Snape upstairs.

The afternoon light was very bright after being in the dim house for very long. Hermione walked to an alley from which she could disapparate, mulling over Snape's last words to her. _He doesn't want to be recognized? Harry and Ron have been humble, but they didn't turn down _Daily Prophet_ interviews… And Snape of all people should want to explain himself… Shouldn't he?_

_But wait. He was a _Death Eater_. You idiot girl! What were you thinking? Of course he doesn't want to be recognized for _what he's done! _What_ has_ he done? The mask, the shackles, the stain…_

Hermione realized she had to approach a friendship with Severus Snape in a different way.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi everybody! I began posting this fanfiction on my previous account, Repello Muggletum. For some reason, I have been unable to log into that account or recover its password since sometime last year. I hope my reposting it here doesn't annoy anyone too much! Anyway, even though I haven't worked on it in almost a year, I fully intend to finish this story sometime in the next three months._

* * *

We,  
A Harry Potter FanFiction by Bebe Flow,  
In which Severus Snape and Hermione Granger are brought together with the help of a few friends.  
This story takes place in the aftermath of the war, in which Voldemort has been defeated. Some characters have been allowed to live; others have been left in their graves. Still others who had once lived have now been killed. That is why it is fiction. I hope you enjoy. Without further ado...

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"Snape, Hermione? _Snape?_" Ginny Weasley laughed from the Burrow's kitchen sink. Hermione had just told her best friend the news. "He asked _you_ to go to the ceremony with him? _You?_"

Hermione shifted her gaze to the boys outside practicing Quidditch. _Even with everything that's happened, they're still obsessed with chasing Snitches_, she snorted fondly, trying to hide her burning cheeks. "Erm… Not exactly… The truth is, _I_ asked _him_."

The kitchen was silent for a moment, save for the distant shouts of Harry and Ron from somewhere was frozen where she was; Hermione was similarly unmoving. Then, unable to stand it any longer, Hermione said, "Ginny, you've got to say something."

"I-I-I… _Hermione Granger_! I didn't know you had it in you! Merlin!" Ginny threw her head back in laughter. "I always knew you had a crush on him, but my goodness! How bold! Utterly _brave_! I'm shocked he actually _agreed_."

"Well thanks, Gin. I'm glad to know you have so much faith in me… But, erm…" Hermione fidgeted, hiding her face behind an over-large cup of tea.

Ginny had long abandoned the dishes and seated herself at the table across from Hermione, glued to the edge of her seat and wriggling with amused excitement. "Yes?" she prodded eagerly. "_Go on_."

Uncomfortable, Hermione said through an unconvincing cough, "Uhm, well… Dumbledore sort of…_cornered _him into going. With me."

There was another long moment of silence. Then Ginny Weasley did what any good friend would do. She tried unsuccessfully to hold back the beginning sputter, and then she erupted in relentless laughter. "Are you… Oh Merlin, hold on a sec." Ginny let out several loud peals of laughter after which, through half-suppressed chuckles, she smoothed her red tresses and said, "Right, then. Anyway. I take it he's not too happy… Do Ron and Harry know?"

"Of course. They _were_ there when I asked. But it's not a date, Gin, just a small Ministry ceremony. No big deal whatsoever." _It's not like there'll be cameras and reporters or anything…_

"Yeah, Hermione. It's not like there'll be cameras and reporters or anything," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. "And I heard Rita Skeeter cleaned up her act as well."

Trying to sound more confident than she was, Hermione said, "Yes, well Rita Skeeter can stick it where--"

"Hello Mum!" A frazzled Molly Weasley stepped through the doorway and in to the Burrow's sunny kitchen. She was wringing her hands on the corner of a spotted apron, brow creased and mouth bowed in a rainbow-like frown, but with much less hope or happiness. In fact, the color of her usually rosy face must have gone off and hidden at the end of some far-off rainbow, for it was not evident in her cheeks nor her tightly pursed lips.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley. Is something the matter?" Hermione quickly put her other troubles aside and focused her worries on Mrs. Weasley. It wasn't often that she showed such obvious distress.

Mrs. Weasley looked to her left. She looked to her right. And when she was certain that no one else was around, she went to the table. The three women put their heads together, and Molly Weasley said in a fierce whisper, "Promise me you won't say anything to Arthur, girls."

Now Ginny's own brow creased in worry. "What is it, Mum?"

"I've lost my wedding ring!" Mrs. Weasley looked on the verge of tears.

Hermione was relieved, having been expecting bad news of Charlie in Romania or the horrifying return of Voldemort, despite assurances that he was gone forever. "I'm sure we can find it, Mrs. Weasley. Ginny and I will help you, and no one will ever have to know."

"That's sweet of you, Hermione, but… Well, read this." She produced a tattered paper from her apron pocket, folded and creased many times. Hermione took the note and carefully unfolded it. It read:

_Dear Molly,_

_The angle produced by Mars and Neptune does not bode well for those married in the month of June. My Inner Eye predicts coming hardships in your marriage._

_Regards,_

_Sybill Trelawney_

Hermione's eyebrows were raised. Carefully, she said, "Mrs. Weasley, this was written in 1992... And what does it have to do with your ring, anyway?"

"My dear, _everybody_ knows that a lost ring is a sign that you will lose your husband! Oh, what am I going to do? I'll go mad if I lose Arthur!" Tears sprouted in the woman's blue eyes while Ginny and Hermione ushered her to a chair.

"There there, Mum. We'll find it all right. Trelawney is a fraud, anyway; don't pay attention to her lies."

Through her sobs, Mrs. Weasley faintly said, "Now, Ginny, talk about your professors respectfully," but both girls could tell her heart wasn't in it.

Twenty minutes later, after Mrs. Weasley had a good cry, the trio pulled the house apart in a vain effort to find the ring. Arthur was staying at Bill's house for the week; they hadn't had a chance to talk since the wedding, and Fleur was in France visiting her family; the trio would return together for the Ministry ceremony. When still the ring did not turn up, Ginny collapsed onto a lumpy armchair. "Maybe it got lost in Diagon Alley last week, Mum. I still need to pick up my school supplies, so I can ask around if you like."

A vacant look on her face, Molly patted her daughter's hand and said, "Thank you, dear."

Then she slowly made her way up the stairs, leaving the two girls alone.

"Mind if I tag along to Diagon with you, Gin? You have to help me pick out a dress for the ceremony."

"Of course. How's tomorrow sound? Flourish & Blott's gets new shipments on Fridays. They should have everything I need… Madame Malkin should have just the dress that will help you sweep Snape off his feet." Ginny gave a cheeky grin, earning a good-natured swat from her best friend.

Hermione was embarrassed at having been, ultimately, rejected by the snarky Potions professor who had always been referred to as a greasy git, or worse. Yet at the same time, she knew her friends would stand by her in whatever she chose, even a date with the man who used to seem as great an enemy as Voldemort himself. Ron and Harry _had_ given her horrified, confused looks at the dinner where her plans were made known, but after a discussion later, in which she harshly chewed them out for being so insensitive, all was right. Ron, whose opinion she had been most worried about, had announced his return to the "on-again" stage of his on-again, off-again relationship with Lavender Brown.

Eventually Mrs. Weasley emerged and made supper, having put on a happy face for the unknowing boys. They sat around and visited for a while, but everyone eventually dispersed. Hermione slept on a transfigured bed in Ginny's room, anticipating the next day's visit to Diagon Alley, her subsequent return home, and the week ahead.

When the next morning rolled around, it was raining. Hermione had toast for breakfast and ended up having to wait for Ginny to finish her much larger meal. Sometimes it seemed like she had a black hole for a stomach. Harry and Ron, uninterested in a day of shopping, were in for a few hours of Exploding Snap and Wizard Chess. After saying their goodbyes, Hermione grabbed hold of Ginny and Apparated them to a dirty alley off of Charing Cross road. From there, they made their way to the Leaky Cauldron, from which they departed to Diagon Alley.

The Alley was a bit vacant due to the rain, but there were still several groups wandering around, including the obligatory few first year students dragging their parents from shop to shop. Having thought to use wet repellant charms, the girls were blessedly free from the burden of an umbrella. They quickly came up with a plan.

First stop was the cauldron shop. Charlie's old cauldron, which Ginny had been using, was on its last leg. It had been involved in an unfortunate potions accident involving a substantial pile of monkshood and the younger, Hufflepuff equivalent of Neville Longbottom. Professor Slughorn had kindly let her use a spare cauldron, but Ginny felt it was essential to purchase a new one. She relished the healthy, non-tarnished surfaces of the cauldrons that lined the shop's walls and eventually picked out a nice, good-sized pewter cauldron.

Next was the apothecary across the street. Ginny purchased the required potions ingredients, and Hermione also replenished her supplies. They were quick to leave the shop, which was unnaturally humid and had a foul cabbagey smell.

"Let's save Flourish & Blott's for last, Herm. It looks crowded." Ginny tilted her head, indicating the group of first years mobbing the bookstore's manager. Just before entering Madam Malkin's a tall man dressed in black stepped out.

It was Snape holding a large parcel in his hands. He froze upon seeing them, eyebrows raised in what could only be alarm, but quickly averted his eyes and walked past them without so much as a nod. The girls turned to watch him until he disappeared. Then Ginny said, "Merlin, Hermione. You must have scarred the man for life!"

Hermine promptly jabbed her friend in the ribs, but secretly wondered why Snape had reacted to their presence in such a way. He seemed almost embarrassed. Surely being caught purchasing new robes wouldn't send someone into a state of such overt rudeness! _But it is Snape_, Hermione reminded herself. She ended up trying on several robes before finally settling on a deep blue set which was cut to accentuate her curves. Ginny claimed it set off her dark brown eyes, but Hermione wasn't so sure. Still, she trusted her friend's judgment and ended up making the purchase.

When Madam Malkin was done making the necessary alterations and the girls finished in Flourish & Blotts, they were both rather tired. They asked around at all of the places Mrs. Weasley usually visited, but the ring had not been found. While this news definitely put a damper on the mood, the rain had stopped and the sun came out. Ginny and Hermione each enjoyed a double scoop at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour while discussing their plans for the rest of the summer.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hi everybody! I began posting this fanfiction on my previous account, Repello Muggletum. For some reason, I have been unable to log into that account or recover its password since sometime last year. I hope my reposting it here doesn't annoy anyone too much! Anyway, even though I haven't worked on it in almost a year, I fully intend to finish this story sometime in the next three months._

* * *

We,  
A Harry Potter FanFiction by Bebe Flow,  
In which Severus Snape and Hermione Granger are brought together with the help of a few friends.  
This story takes place in the aftermath of the war, in which Voldemort has been defeated. Some characters have been allowed to live; others have been left in their graves. Still others who had once lived have now been killed. That is why it is fiction. I hope you enjoy. Without further ado...

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Hermione and her parents had had a strained relationship since the end of the war. Really, if she thought about it, they were being perfectly fair. After being banished to Australia for three-fourths of the year, it was perfectly acceptable for them to be a little bit peeved, a tiny bit hurt. Hermione had explained everything to them, and for a while it all seemed okay.

The while being roughly three days, of course.

At first, Hermione had tried to soften the blow with long-winded explanations of her activities during their months abroad. They had already known about Voldemort's threat to the family before Hermione cast the memory charm on them last year. It had been after a quiet brunch in early August. Hugo Granger had just sat down in his comfortable chair and was fishing his favorite section out of yesterday's paper. Before she had time to think or say good-bye or give any warning, Hugo Granger became Norman Gingold. Much the same occurred when Hermione pointed her wand to her mother, whose back was turned and bent over a pile of dishes in the sink; Jane's new name was Rose Gingold. Australia beckoned. Face remarkably dry and eyes hardened in fierce determination, Hermione sent them on their way.

Tears came much later. When wet-faced accounts of how much she'd missed them failed, Hermione made jokes--or what she thought were jokes--about their extended vacation, how much more sunny and warm it was in Australia. Then Hugo and Jane gave their own teary-eyed accounts of their home there, all the people they'd met, their friends. Hermione forgot that while she'd been off throwing hexes at Death Eaters, her parents' lives hadn't stopped. She hadn't realized that the charm she'd used would allow her parents to remember their experiences while under its influence.

It was a big price to pay; her parents were miserable. They yearned for the wide-open, arid brush lands of the Australian Outback. "I wouldn't be offended, y'know… If you went back," Hermione said one morning after hearing about a famed day trip to Alice Springs.

The Granger parents looked at each other, looking decidedly less like adults with each passing moment. Grins broke on their faces, and Jane had to wipe away a tear.

Just as they'd gone before, they went again, as Norman and Rose Gingold. "It'd be confusing to our friends, don't you think?" said Hugo, or Norman, as he preferred.

With promises to write and visit, the Gingolds left their daughter in the house she'd grown up in, where she was to continue growing up. It wasn't much different than before, really, though Hermione did have to suppress the stinging ache of being left alone. She found it easier to be the one doing the leaving.

o

"What, you need to get back to Lav-Lav, Won-Won?" Harry mocked with a high-pitched giggle as his best friend stood to depart.

"Better company elsewhere, mate. I'd rather not be a witness to you snogging my sister's face off," Ron said wincing, a look of disgust crossing his features. Harry rolled his eyes while Ginny scoffed indignantly. "I'd get out as soon as you can, Herm."

With a smirk, Hermione wordlessly pointed her wand to his retreating bottom, which gave cause for a now very red-faced Ron to turn and glare at each of his friends in turn before huffily shutting the door behind him.

Ginny giggled. "Nice one Hermione. You staying for dinner?"

Shrugging, Hermione said, "No, I don't want to be a nuisance. It's been--"

"You know," Harry interrupted, "the real reason he left is because McGonagall's coming for a visit tonight. Hasn't been able to look her in the eye since that streaking incident with Seamus in third year…"

Ginny cringed. "Thanks for that." Then, to Hermione, "You sure? Mum made plenty."

"Thanks, but I've been meaning to get the house in order for a week now. I'll come around tomorrow, though, okay?"

As Hermione stood, Mrs. Weasley entered the room. She shuffled around a few knickknacks lining the bookshelves, peered into a potpourri dish and even swept the ceiling fan blades with a broom. Harry gave Ginny a questioning look, but said nothing. "Do you kids mind standing up for a second?" Mrs. Weasley said. She felt under each couch cushion to no avail. The furrow between her brows deepened.

"Are you missing something, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry said in a concerned voice.

Molly seemed to notice his presence in the room for the first time. Her face brightened. "Not at all, Harry. Are you staying for dinner?"

"If that's okay with you," he said.

Molly smiled. "Of course! The more the merrier. I expect you have some things you'd like to discuss with Minerva, anyway. How about you, Hermione?"

"Oh, no, Mrs. Weasley. I should be getting home before it gets dark. Thanks, though." Hermione offered the woman a sympathetic smile and headed for the door just as a harried-looking Minerva McGonagall was about to knock on it.

"Goodness! Albus gets more and more restless every day!" The professor's hair was out of its normal tight bun. Instead, it fell in thin, wispy strands over her shoulders. _No wonder she's always got it up_, Hermione thought. "I can't wait until school is back in session," said Minerva. "All week he's been pestering me with his silly speech, asking about long pauses and contractions and whatever else; it's maddening!"

"It's been too long, Minerva. Nice to see you," Molly said. The women, actually distant cousins, hugged, each happy to see the other. "I wish Arthur were here; he'll be with Bill for another two days."

"I'm sure I'll be able to catch up with him on Saturday," the professor replied. Then she turned to Hermione. "It's good to see you too, Miss Granger. Will I have the pleasure of your company this evening?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to go without me for a few days as well, Professor," Hermione said with a smile. McGonagall had always been her favorite professor.

Nodding, McGonagall said, "Please, it's Minerva. We've been through too much together to be so formal."

"Minerva, then… Please call me Hermione," Hermione said with another smile, throwing her cloak over her shoulders and making for the door. "I'll see you all on Saturday."

As she closed the door, Hermione could have sworn she heard someone murmur, "If Snape will share you…" but did not care to venture back in to confront her slanderer. Red-cheeked and a tinge embarrassed, she Apparated back to her empty house.

o

By the time August 29 rolled around, Hermione hadn't had much contact with the outside world. The house had been a mess since before her parents had left. They were not nearly as tidy as they had been before their time in Australia, and Hermione had been spending a lot of time at the Burrow in the past few weeks. She'd used the past few days to her advantage, dusting, scrubbing, and rearranging furniture.

The pantry had been especially horrifying; the few potatoes that remained resembled mandrakes, and there was a powdery grey substance all over the floor in one corner. It took a while for Hermione to get it clean, especially since she didn't know a great deal of cleaning spells. She resolved to ask Mrs. Weasley as soon as she had a chance.

The furniture placement remained much the same, except for a few things switched between rooms. Hermione thought her mother had good taste and didn't feel the need to change much. The only major change was Hermione's move to her parents' much larger former bedroom. It was much more spacious, with a wardrobe double the size of her old one. She'd acquired a lot of new clothes lately with the money her parents had left her, so the move was very practical.

Ginny came over around four o' clock to help her get ready; Hermione had made plans to Apparate to Spinner's End so she and Snape could arrive together. She felt it would be better to be early; Snape was one to appreciate, even command, punctuality.

"You look beautiful," Hermione's best friend said, affecting an accent that shamelessly mocked that of Fleur Weasley. She fluffed her friend's hair again, admiring its newfound shininess. She'd discovered a few useful spells in _Teen Witch Weekly_ recently, one being incredibly useful for shining silverware and hair alike. There was another "bust accentuating" charm, but that was where Hermione drew the line.

"I really appreciate this, Gin. I've been anxious all week." She smoothed her royal blue robes, feeling a surge of confidence that she rarely possessed in regards to her appearance.

"Well really, what do you expect, you dolt? Tonight's a big deal." Ginny's hair was perfectly straight, parted slightly to the side and looking stunning. She wore dark green robes that were little out of season, but still flattered her. "Anyway, I should go. See you there! Don't trip and fall or anything, alright?" Ginny departed through the fireplace.

Hermione laughed. _She knows me too well_. Then, looking at the time, she realized it was time for her to leave as well.

o

Spinner's End was much like it had been the first time Hermione visited, except in the dusk much busier. Especially unnerving was a group of teenage boys who grinned at her as she passed by. One of them repeatedly slapped a large stick against his palm, as if to remind her of just whose territory she was in. Hermione met the boy's eyes as she passed, and the group's brusque teenage cockiness fell away when they saw her turn onto Snape's walkway.

With a little glance out of her peripheral vision, Hermione saw the boys look at each other in almost startled confusion. She was reminded of Snape's dark, dangerous persona; the boys likely had cause to look to his house with fear in their eyes. Hermione was beginning to wonder if perhaps she should be a little afraid herself. Nonetheless, she grasped the seldom-used door-knocker and tapped once again at Severus Snape's door.

This time--Hermione thanked her lucky stars--Snape had been prepared for her visit; he was neatly dressed, and to Hermione's amusement, wearing shoes. With an unenthusiastic flourish, Snape invited Hermione into his home. "Thank you," said Hermione. "I know I'm a bit early, but--"

"Spare the explanation, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted with a sneer. "I was in the middle of some very _important_ research. You may wait here while I finish it; then we will leave." Snape retreated through a door Hermione hadn't noticed on her first visit.

She was rather put off by the man's rude behavior, but chose not to argue. Instead, she took a seat. The room had been cleaned up since she'd last been in it; it certainly lacked the character she expected a room belonging to Severus Snape to have. Much like the kitchen, this room was simply _plain_. Hermione had always taken her former professor as a no-nonsense sort of fellow, but a home completely devoid of personal possessions… Well, it simply wasn't a home.

Ten minutes later Snape emerged from the mysterious room and silently waved his wand a few times, presumably to set the wards. "We'll have to hurry, or we'll be late," Hermione said. She was never one to purposely arrive late for the sake of dramatics.

"Perhaps you should have considered that before choosing your escort, Miss Granger," was the man's terse reply. He threw a cloak over his shoulders, hiding his wand somewhere within its voluminous folds.

Two light pink spots appeared like unwanted roses on Hermione's cheeks, but still she did not succumb to an angry outburst. Nodding, she said, "Alright, then… On another note, I think it is proper for an _escort_ to refer to his date by her first name."

"Very well…" Snape started slowly, his trademark grimace in place. He paused as though he couldn't be troubled to remember her name.

"_Hermione_," she said. She felt foolish enough as it was and was quickly becoming fed up with the man's games.

"…Hermione," he finished. Then, as if completely forgetting his rude demeanor, he hesitantly offered his own name as well. "I suppose, then, that it would be proper…for me to extend the same courtesy."

Giving a small smile, Hermione said, "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, Severus, can we go?" The man nodded. They Apparated to a secluded street a few blocks from the Ministry of Magic.

"By the way," Hermione said with a slight blush. "You look nice tonight. New robes…?"

"No, Mis--Hermione, I didn't feel the need to purchase new robes for such a pointless Ministry photo op."

"Being recognized for your efforts in the war is pointless? You should be proud… But anyway, I do recall seeing you leave Madam Malkin's with a parcel."

"I can assure you that was no parcel of mine," he said in a bored tone.

Hermione was still suspicious. "Whose was it, then?"

"That is none of your business--"

"Ha! Too proud to admit defeat?" Hermione interrupted.

"--but if you _must _know, I was picking up some of Minerva's…" he paused, as if trying to find the words, "…_delicates_."

Hermione immediately felt embarrassed and immature for pestering Snape about something so insignificant as his attire. There really was no way to tell whether his robes were new or old; the man wore practically the same thing everywhere. But Hermione was certain he wouldn't make up such an excuse, nor would he have told her had she not forced him to. The pair then walked along in silence, from the light pole under which they'd had their discussion to the elevator transporting them to the Ministry's second floor. They encountered no one.

In the uncomfortable quiet of the elevator, Hermione took a glance at her watch. "We're late!" she said loudly. "This is your fault! Important experiment, my ar--"

"If you hadn't stopped to harass me about--"

The elevator dinged open. "Hermione!" said a voice from the crowd gathered in the Ministry Ballroom. It was Cho Chang waving with one arm around a young man Hermione didn't know, who gave her a small smile. They were waiting to be seated. It appeared that Severus and Hermione were right on time.

"Late indeed," Snape muttered so only Hermione could hear. She glared, but faced her friends with a smile. The pair was seated at a table close to the stage with Alastor Moody, Circe Philmore, and their respective dates.

When they sat, Moody nodded to Hermione, but met Snape's eyes. "Doin' a little charity work, are we, Miss Granger?"

Snape did not give Hermione the chance to respond. "I could be asking the same thing of your…_companion_," he said with utmost derision. Moody's date was Beatrice Brigaud, a woman whose allegiance depended on the time of day one asked her. She was often spotted skirting the edges of Death Eater revels and Order morale boosters alike. Both sides tolerated her, but neither accepted her.

"Now listen here, _Snape_, don't think ya can sit there an' insult my fiancée. Ya think yer a big shot now that Albus saved ya from the Dementors, but we all know better. Yer nothin' but a lowlife, good-for-nothin'--"

"That's _enough_. We're here to celebrate, Moody, not _attack_ people," interjected Circe Philmore, ever the voice of reason. She was a matronly, middle-aged woman who knew a thing or two about mediating arguments. "If you can't be civil, ignore each other."

Snape at first appeared unperturbed by Moody's comments, but Hermione briefly caught his eye and found hurt in them. That is, before he pushed it back and the look of cold indifference returned. Then, Delphius Hattlebotham introduced Dumbledore, who approached the podium. Then the room was silent.

o

Normally when Albus Dumbledore spoke, Hermione would hang on to his every word. Now, however, her attention was on the scene she'd just witnessed. She heard only bits and pieces of Dumbledore's speech.

"--here to celebrate, but also to remember--" came Dumbledore's voice dreamily, in one ear and out the other.

_Good-for-nothing? _Hermione thought. _Lowlife?_ _What on earth was Moody on about?_

"--should we allow such intolerance--"

Hermione sported a dazed, zombie-like look on her face. _I can't believe Snape didn't interrupt or say _anything._ There must be something wrong with him. _

"--that should not be taken for granted--"

_I didn't go out of my way to defend him, _Hermione thought, _but he didn't exactly leap to my protection either…_

"--honor those who embody these ideals--"

…_Or maybe he did?_

"--difficult, with their example, for future generations to succumb--"

_His own indirect form of protection, perhaps? Moody would have turned on me if I'd disagreed with his opinion…Maybe Severus intentionally cut me out of the conversation to save me from getting on Moody's bad side_, Hermione reasoned. _He'd certainly know what it was like…_

"--let us commence," Dumbledore said in a voice that thankfully awakened Hermione from her reverie. She knew she would be among the first awardees called and did not care to embarrass herself.

Dumbledore began reading the names of the Order of Merlin recipients. They were to go to the stage, shake a few hands and accept the award. _Kind of like graduating from Hogwarts_, Hermione thought with a note of sadness. She would not be participating in that sort of graduation, at least not from Hogwarts.

"To Sirius Black, on behalf of the Internation Wizard's Council for the Recognition of Honors and the Ministry of Magic, I present the Order of Merlin, second class, for his outstanding resilience, charity and bravery."

The crowd politely clapped (a few at the side of the room hooted; Hermione thought it sounded like Harry) and the press snapped pictures, Sirius looking half sheepish, half smug.

"To Dedalus Diggle, the Order of Merlin, third class for his groundbreaking work in accurately decoding hieroglyphics essential to our cause."

Dumbledore's extra comments seemed charmingly spontaneous, though the man surely had them planned since before the war was even over. He was always thinking of things like that.

"Hermione Granger is presented the Order of Merlin, third class for her indispensable assistance to all involved, as well as her sharp intelligence and level-headedness in all situations." Dumbledore looked at her warmly, and she was touched at the sincerity with which he said his words. She took the fancy box holding her Order of Merlin and returned to her seat with a smile, tears in her eyes.

All of this went on a while longer; names announced, obligatory clapping, all amidst constant photo flashes. To Hermione it seemed very much like a movie. It felt good to be recognized; she'd worked hard in the past year and was glad to be remembered as something more than runner-up sidekick to The Boy Who Lived.

Suddenly a horrible thought struck her. _What if no one claps for Severus?_ _What if I'm the only one? He'd take it as pity, or sarcastic, and he'd likely not speak to me for the rest of the night… Or ever._

As Dumbledore went down his list, Hermione became more and more antsy. Somehow, _she_ would be embarrassed--no, _angered_--if Snape wasn't paid his proper respect. She tried to reason that it _was_ Dumbledore doing the awarding, but what, somehow, his presence no longer had any influence?

Harry's name caused loud applause. He'd only been awarded an Order of Merlin, third class, which was sure to cause a lot of stir in the newspapers, but Hermione secretly agreed that third class was what he deserved. _All he did was survive the birth canal, after all_, she silently jeered.

"--and his willingness to sacrifice himself for the sake of an unknown future," Dumbledore said as Harry accepted his Order of Merlin.

Sheridan Rogers was next, and Hermione knew Snape's time was drawing near. She resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. Then, finally:

"To Severus Snape, an Order of Merlin, first class. Had he not traversed through the darkness, none of us would have been delivered into the light."

Hermione's worries were unfounded. A gentle applause sounded as Snape rose. With his head angled slightly down, he made for the stage, fine wisps of hair partially shielding his face. Hermione noted that while Sirius had appeared sheepish, Snape looked downright bashful. She wondered how he could go from unapproachable and brooding one minute to completely humble and shy the next. _The man is an enigma_, she thought.

Snape stuck out his hand to shake Dumbledore's, as had been the norm for the entire evening. The older man took it, but instead of letting go, he pulled Snape into a big, friendly--almost fatherly--hug. Snape seemed to hesitate, but did manage to place a pat or two on Dumbledore's back. Hermione thought she saw Dumbledore whisper something into Snape's ear, but the moment went by too fast, and there were too many spots in front of her eyes from the flashing cameras. She couldn't be sure.

The photographers ate this moment up. Rita Skeeter's quill was moving a mile a minute, and the clapping got a little louder. Hermione noticed that many of the clappers had eyes lacking mirth or enthusiasm; they seemed to clap out of a sense of duty to the Ministry--or to Dumbledore--but certainly not to Snape. No wonder he looked so uncomfortable.

Eyes averted, seeming slightly shaken and rather embarrassed, Severus Snape seated himself again. Hermione noticed Minerva glance over, a little misty-eyed, but she was more concerned with Moody, who was muttering under his breath and appeared altogether agitated. The procession continued, down to the last Weasley, with a silent moment at the end to honor the losses. After the closing remarks, the real party began.

Except, for Hermione, it didn't.

o

Ginny approached Hermione almost immediately. Her face was twisted with worry; she looked like she might erupt into tears at any time. "Professor Snape, may I speak with Hermione for a moment?" she said in a voice indicating that she would not wait for his approval.

"As you wish," said the professor in a voice indicating that he didn't care one way or the other. _Fully recovered, aren't we?_ Hermione thought with an eye roll. She and Ginny retreated to a corner of the spacious room; in their haste, they knocked into more than a few dancers and minglers.

"What's wrong, Gin?" Hermione said with concern. Ginny was looking more upset by the moment.

"I thought everything was fine, you know, that my dad just got caught up with Bill and Fleur, that something just came up…" the girl said. "But Mum was looking worried; there was no owl. Did you notice anything strange about her when she went up? I wasn't as close to the stage…"

Hermione felt guilty for her inattention during the ceremony. "I don't know, Ginny… They're not here? Maybe there'll be an owl when you get home, or something… I'm sure it's all okay."

"No… No, Hermione. We laughed when she was going on about her ring, but gods… Trelawney was right again. Why didn't we do something?" The tears were freely flowing now; Hermione dug in her pockets for a handkerchief but found none.

"Don't blame yourself, Ginny. Everything will be alright," Hermione soothed. "Just remember, you've been through worse before… We all have."

"No! I may have lost my _father_, Hermione. Can't you see?" Ginny lashed out, pulling away from her best friend. "I don't care about what everyone else has been through; this is _me_!"

"That's not what I meant, Ginny… Listen, we're all on the same side now, right? No more Death Eaters. I'm sure he's fine…"

"Don't be so naïve, Hermione! Merlin, _no more Death Eaters_? What about Snape? Lucius Malfoy? _Draco_, for god's sake!"

Hermione had never taken well to be shouted at. Her morale crumpled, a part of her willingness to show sympathy gone. "Well excuse me for trying to be the voice of reason, Ginny. Gods, it's like you're _trying_ to be upset! Get ahold of yourself!"

Ginny shook her head in devastated outrage. Her lip quivered, and her voice shook as she said, "I never thought I'd see the day you turned into such a _bad_ friend, Hermione… It seems you really _have_ chosen Snape's side over ours."

"_What_? So you _lied_ to me? You said you had no problem with it! I never thought _I_ would see the day my best friend _lied_ to me over something so silly!"

"Well this _silliness_ may have cost my father his life! Merlin, Hermione, you always have to turn--"

"Ginny…" a voice interjected, but neither girl had heard him. The volume of the argument was quite elevated.

"--everything into--"

"Ginny," the voice said again, this time a bit louder.

"--something about--"

"GINNY!" the voice cut through the "you" that had formed in Ginny's mouth. Both girls looked at the owner of the voice, indignant at being interrupted. It was Ron Weasley, looking almost guilty for disrupting their argument. He jerked his head in the direction of the door. "Mum wants to go now, Gin. C'mon." He looked at Hermione in confusion, but did not ask any questions. Surely he had other things on his mind.

After a polite nod from Ron and a furious glance from Ginny, Hermione was alone in the corner. A few of the people closest to her had been able to hear the exchange, and they looked at her like they would a particularly gruesome potions mishap or transfiguration accident. Hermione wished they wouldn't; she was fighting back tears. It wasn't often she and Ginny fought, and it upset her. She felt immensely guilty, even though intellectually she knew it wasn't entirely her fault.

o

"Severus," Hermione said to the man, who was sitting at a table with Minerva and Dumbledore. He looked over carelessly, but his curiosity was revealed in his quirking brow. "I have to go."

"Hermione, are you alright?" interjected Minerva with concern.

"Yes, I'm fine. Something just came up."

"Would you like me to take you home?" spoke up Severus.

A surprising offer, but Hermione needed to be alone. "Thank you, but no. Goodnight, everyone."

Hermione left them all behind and made her way to the door, refusing to cry until she was safely in the darkness. She had no option but to go home, since she knew the night would be no fun in current circumstances. The only acceptable thing to do, in Hermione's mind, was to think--and most likely cry--within a tight blanket cocoon on her otherwise empty bed.

By eleven o' clock the tears had nearly subsided. By midnight Hermione lapsed into fierce, chest-heaving anger at having her friend lash out at her in such a way. By morning she had worked herself sick with worry at the prospect of losing the man who'd been a second father to her since she'd met him. Throughout the torrent of emotions, Hermione's one constant thought was that she could do nothing about it.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hi everybody! I began posting this fanfiction on my previous account, Repello Muggletum. For some reason, I have been unable to log into that account or recover its password since sometime last year. I hope my reposting it here doesn't annoy anyone too much! Anyway, even though I haven't worked on it in almost a year, I fully intend to finish this story sometime in the next three months._

* * *

We,  
A Harry Potter FanFiction by Bebe Flow,  
In which Severus Snape and Hermione Granger are brought together with the help of a few friends.  
This story takes place in the aftermath of the war, in which Voldemort has been defeated. Some characters have been allowed to live; others have been left in their graves. Still others who had once lived have now been killed. That is why it is fiction. I hope you enjoy. Without further ado...

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"Worry not, Molly, everything will be fine," Dumbledore said with a reassuring pat on her shoulder.

The kids had all gone to bed, or they'd all gone upstairs. Ginny was huddled under a quilt, fighting back tears. She knew crying would just make her mother upset, and the boys definitely wouldn't tolerate any waterworks. It was better to be upset within the privacy of her own room; being the first female Weasley in a few generations really did have its drawbacks.

Ron was sitting in his room with Fred and George, all of them trying to cheer the others up but each ultimately failing. "Can't believe Percy's not here," said George.

Fred nodded. "Old Weatherby's probably off shining Shacklebolt's shoes." The others tittered at Barty Crouch's old nickname for Percy, but Fred shook it off. In a rare moment of seriousness, he said, "But really, where is the prat?" The room fell silent again, the brothers staring blankly into space, minds too full to think.

Bill and Fleur went home, though the twins had urged them to stay for the sake of their mother. "What if Dad comes back? We want to be there…in case of emergency," Bill reasoned. Unfortunately for Fred and George, Dumbledore agreed. It wasn't that they didn't want someone there; they just wanted someone to share the burden of comforting their mother. Besides, Aurors were out searching the area around Bill and Fleur's cottage; what were the odds of Mr. Weasley getting to the house unnoticed, especially if injured?

To this inquiry, Bill had given each of his brothers a cold glare.

As the boys talked and Ginny cried, Molly Weasley was still being consoled by Dumbledore, who was doing his best to calm the frantic woman. "You can't know for sure, Albus… Sybill sent me this letter a few years ago. Curse the day I decided it was rubbish!" She produced the tattered letter, and Dumbledore took it warily. Upon reading it, his face became darker, yet still he was reassuring.

"It may not seem so, Molly, but there is hope. Putting such faith in casual prophesy is like looking into a crystal vase to see the future; in the end, only time will tell. We will do everything we can, Molly."

With a sob, Mrs. Weasley said, "B-but _I_ can tell!"

"No, _you_ also can't know for sure, Molly," said Minerva McGonagall, who'd just changed from her cat form and let herself in through the kitchen door. "There's an Auror meeting going on at the Black house; what do you say we make it an Order meeting?"

"Excellent idea, Minerva! I'll get Molly's cloak!" said Albus, his speed evidence that he was more than happy to leave the room. Tears made him antsy.

"Don't you worry, Molly. You just wait and see," Minerva said kindly. In a few moments, the three adults Apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place. The teenagers upstairs were close behind.

o

"_Viva forever, I'll be waiting_

_Everlasting, like the sun._

_Life forever, like the moment_

_Ever searching, for the one."_

Hermione's stereo had fallen into disuse over the past year, so she wasn't quite up to speed with current music. Really, popular culture was now alien to her; it would take a while to recover. Most of her peers assumed Hermione was a major bookworm--she was--but she also loved music, especially the Muggle variety; Wizarding music was much too stiff. She was also put off by the Wizarding World's not-so-subtle lack of movies and television… Hermione had a long list of movies to watch and music to hear, on top of the many books she needed to read in preparation for her N.E.W.T.s.

On top of all of this were Hermione's newfound friendship woes. She'd sent three notes to Ginny by owl and still no response. A person can only wait so long before going insane, can only apologize so many times before withdrawing the desire for forgiveness. At the sight and sound of Regina's note-less talons clawing at the window, Hermione realized she was rapidly approaching that threshold.

With the radio up so loud she could feel its vibrations in her chest, the young witch set about ignoring the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wrestled her twisted bed sheets, their disorderliness hinting at her troubled sleep and troubled mind.

"Viva foreeever, I'll be waiting! Everlasting! Like the sun!" Hermione half-sung, half-shouted, snapping the bedclothes into place. She injected herself into the song, raised her arms out as if she were an opera singer instead of a bedroom pop star. "Life foreeever, like the mome--Ginny!"

"What _is_ this rubbish?" the redhead said peering at the buttons of the stereo, presumably to deduce which would mercifully stop said rubbish.

Hermione scoffed, but she was quite embarrassed at having been caught belting the song out so dramatically. Nonetheless, she turned the volume down. "_This_, Ginny, is what the Wizarding World is missing: _the Spice Girls_."

"I prefer the Weird Sisters."

"I know you do." The girls snickered, a little bashful around each other now that there was no anger to hide behind. Then, Hermione sobered up. "I'm sorry, Ginny."

"Don't be," was the quick reply. "I was ridiculous… Ignore everything I said."

"Only if you ignore everything _I_ said. You're my best friend, Gin. It kills me that this happened to you. C'mere." The girls hugged.

Dabbing her eyes, Ginny said, "Everyone's at Grimmauld: Sirius, Dumbledore, McGonagall, even Snape… Listen, Hermione, I'm sorry I said all that stuff about him. It wasn't fair."

"Gin, don't worry about it. That's not important. We're all just so used to him being the bad guy. It's hard to forget… How's your mum doing?"

"Hysterical. I can't stand it anymore," Ginny said. "She keeps going on and on about how she knew it, all the signs: Trelawney, the ring…"

"It'll all be okay, Gin. You can come here whenever you want if you need a break. But what's the word from Dumbledore? Surely he has something…"

"Aurors are searching. McGonagall and the others are at least communicating; they called Trelawney in, but she doesn't even remember writing the letter…"

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Really? Maybe we should head over there, if you're up to it."

"I'll be fine now," Ginny replied.

"Great," Hermione smiled. "Let's go."

o

"C'mon, Dorgin, we haven't checked over there yet," said Head Auror Augusta Splitt. The area immediately around Bill and Fleur Weasley's cottage had been scoured to no avail; the small team of Aurors was now combing the seaside for any sign of Arthur Weasley. "Come along, the others are ahead."

Edward Dorgin was the newest member of the team, a new and inexperienced young Auror who had finished his training only months ago. "Awright, 'm comin'," he said, out of breath. Who knew being an Auror would be so physically exhausting? He'd barely had time to lace his boots this morning before being forced into the chilly morning air to search for a man he'd never met.

"Well, come a little faster. We're on direct orders from Shacklebolt to hurry up and find him." Splitt quickened her pace. Dorgin, who was still bitter about missing his morning porridge, grudgingly did the same. He hoped to Merlin, for his stomach's sake, that this Weasley character would turn up before he missed lunch as well.

o

"We've got our best team of Aurors at the cottage as we speak. Bill and Fleur are on the lookout for anything abnormal, as well," Gawain Robards said from his position facing the crackling fire of Grimmauld Place's kitchen. "The thing to do now is be patient and wait."

"_Wait?_" said George and Fred simultaneously.

"What a load of rubbish that is!" said Ron.

Mrs. Weasley looked stricken, but that wasn't a new thing. She'd been stricken since the night before. "Isn't there anything at all we can do?"

"That won't be necessary," said Robards. "You see, our Aurors are highly trained and will likely fin--Whoa! Hello there! You scared the daylights out of me!" The Ministry's top Auror stepped back as two young witches stepped out of the fireplace.

"Sorry to have scared you, sir," said Hermione with a smirk. From somewhere in Moody's general direction, a strange garble was uttered, sounding suspiciously like "constant vigilance".

Robards seemed rather embarrassed. "Er, quite alright, Hermione Granger, was it? I've read about you in the _Prophet_. Didn't expect to see you stepping out of fireplaces right in front of me…" he said. "But--where was I?--Oh, yes, our Aurors are highly trained and fully capable of locating--"

Hermione did not have patience for hollow reassurances, nor did she look forward to the restless associated with waiting. "Well, what about the prophesy, sir?"

"Prophesy? That's not an area of our expertise."

"No, of course not. What I mean is why don't we see if we can find any information on Trelawney's prediction."

A new yet familiar voice joined the conversation with a small cough. "I have taken the liberty of doing just that, Miss Granger," said Severus Snape, and the room went silent. With a glance around the room, he continued. "We must take this prophesy seriously; it is, after all, a _prophesy_, regardless--"

"But it's Trelaw--" the twins interrupted, looking immediately regretful afterwards. They were still rather terrified of their former professor, even after having left Hogwarts quite some time ago.

"--of its source." Snape looked severely at the twins, then Robards, for a brief moment. "And regardless of how _highly trained_ the Aurors are, it is rather imperative that something be done here as well. As Mrs. Weasley has already informed us, there is a superstition in regards to lost wedding rings; after a bit of research, I've located a rare book that may have the information needed to assess the situation more competently."

"_May_? We're gonna waste our time on a long-shot?" Moody said gruffly from his dark corner. "And don't be disrespectin' the Aurors like that, Snape, after we kept ya safe fer so long!"

"I was under the impression that even a retired Auror would want to make himself useful, Moody, but if you prefer not to help at all…" Severus trailed off meaningfully.

Sirius quickly joined the conversation. "Don't listen, Moody, Snape's just baiting you. Almost killed me with that tactic, if I recall."

"_Listen_, Black," Snape said.

At the same time, Moody responded, completely ignoring Sirius's comment. "A lot of help nosing around in an encyclopedia is; a _spy_ like yerself should be showing his loyalty by joining the search!"

"Don't talk to me about loyalty, Moody, when you--"

"Yeah, the git's big nose is stuck in too much business to be loyal to any one thing," Sirius interjected.

Moody and Snape were furious, both being men in possession of famously bad tempers. Snape's face was plum like in complexion, while Moody's was unnaturally pale. Both wore grimaces, though Snape's brows were furrowed a little deeper. Each opened his mouth to spew something unnecessarily harsh, but thankfully, Dumbledore saved them the effort: "Enough, gentlemen. Where can we find this book, Severus?"

Snape forced himself to calm before responding to Dumbledore. In truth, he felt ashamed to be arguing in front of his closest friend because of old disputes; even more, he was resentful that Black possessed no outward signs of being the slightest bit annoyed. "It's been inherited by the family of Maxwell Silverstone, who refused to allow his copy of the tome to be borrowed or even viewed for any adequate amount of time."

"And his family allows it?" Dumbledore said.

"That is where there is a problem, sir. The man is recently deceased; the funeral was only two days ago… The Silverstones are an old Wizarding family who aren't likely to disrespect his wishes."

This time Molly spoke up tearfully. "Is there any way we could convince them, Severus? Any way at all?"

"They are an old Wizarding family," Snape repeated. He turned to stare into the fire. "The Dark Lord's sympathizers."

"I know them," Sirius said. He almost choked on his disgust at Snape calling Voldemort by such a name. "Our families have been estranged for centuries. It was taboo to even mention the name, in my youth."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Snape said, "I have…connections…with the Silverstone family. It may be best if I request the book."

"Very well, Severus," Dumbledore said at the same time that Molly Weasley began thanking him profusely. Her children would have looked embarrassed had they not been singing praises in their heads.

Evidently, Snape meant to pay the Silverstones a visit immediately, for he stood to leave as soon as Dumbledore conceded. Perhaps he just wanted to seek refuge from Mrs. Weasley's gushing gratitude; the only acknowledgment he gave it was a quick half-nod in her general direction. Before he made his escape, however, Hermione stood and said, "May I accompany you, Professor? I may be able to evoke their sympathy better than you."

Though the room's high population of Weasleys had dampened the mood significantly, there were a few titters at Hermione's statement. Snape decided to ignore them. "I doubt you will let me be until I agree. Very well, Miss Granger, let's go."

Hermione followed the man to the doorstep. "Where are we going?"

He turned to her. "Nowhere you've been before."

"Oh. Well how do we get there?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow to mimic the professor's oft used expression.

"We'll have to use side-along Apparition."

"Fine, then," she said. "Give me your arm."

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that, Miss Granger?"

"But you know you wouldn't. Anyway, we're alone now, so you can call me Hermione again… Shall we go?"

"Give me your arm," he said, smirking smugly. Hermione rolled her eyes and took _his _arm, which he reluctantly proffered. Then, a strange tugging at her navel and they were spinning through space.

o

"Leave it to Snape to have connections with _that_ family!" Sirius snapped as soon as Snape and Hermione walked out the door.

Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "Don't judge him too harshly, Sirius; most old wizard families are connected to the Silverstones, even yours."

"Especially yours, and don't forget it." Mrs. Weasley added, standing. "Can I get you a cup of tea, Albus? Knowing Severus is doing something has made me feel better, but if I don't do something with my hands I'll go mad."

"In that case, I'll have a cup," Albus replied. Following his lead, everyone sat down to tea, the Weasleys feeling significantly relaxed. For a while, the younger Weasleys almost forgot about the family's dilemma. For Mrs. Weasley, however, worry stalked her every thought.

o

"You look over there, Dorgin, and _be thorough_!" directed Splitt to her unhappy charge. She never understood why Robards insisted on placing rookie Aurors in such important missions.

Muttering, Dorgin fixed his eyes to the ground and focused on maintaining his balance. The coast was very rocky, and he wasn't keen on breaking an ankle on account of this Weasley man. He stood on an unusually flat rock that was almost parallel to the ground. It dipped down a little in the front, where it just nearly met two jagged edged rocks that also had strikingly smooth surfaces.

There was a large empty space between the three rocks, just big enough to stand in. Dorgin peered into it, expecting to find nothing. Instead, a gold ring shone through the grime it was covered in. Curiously, he picked it up. The homely diamond set in the ring glittered up at him. Dorgin studied it for a while.

"Have you found anything?" Splitt's voice called from behind him.

Startled, Dorgin yelled back, "No, nothin'!"

"Then keep moving!"

Dorgin hastily stuffed the ring into his front pocket, intending to return to it later, after he had a meal, a shower, and some rest.

o

"Wow, are you sure only one family lives here?" Hermione said in awe. The Silverstone property was unlike any she had ever seen. A huge green lawn spread out before the house, boasting innumerable flowers and neatly trimmed hedges. There were four pathways leading to an elaborate fountain in the center of the yard. The house was in the Tudor style, with the many tall windows and large, sturdy doors boasting low, regal arches.

Snape looked unimpressed and nodded. "Quite." He walked in long strides towards the strong double doors. "By now, Silverstone's eldest son will be aware of our arrival… Allow me to do the talking."

Hermione was easily able to match his pace with only the slightest bit of extra effort. "What was the point of me coming at all, then?"

"You insisted."

Hermione guffawed. "Since when do you change your mind based on someone else's insistence?"

"Since when do _you_ plot to be consistently placed in the presence of a most hated former professor?"

"I never hated you," she retorted, choosing to ignore the rest of his statement.

The pair was only a few steps from the door now. "I never required your insistence."

Hermione _knew_ Snape only said this because he was certain he was going to be saved from an interrogation regarding the remark. She opened her mouth to demand explanation, but the doors opened of their own volition before she could utter a sound. Snape threw Hermione his trademark smirk and said, "Let us proceed." Hermione had to remind herself of the mission at hand.

When they stepped into the foyer, a dejected-looking house-elf led Snape and Hermione into a dimly lit room that, Hermione noted, smelled distinctly of mahogany. It appeared to be some sort of study; hundreds of leather-bound books lined the walls, which reached up to an exceptionally high ceiling.

"Hello, Severus," a man greeted in a slow-as-syrup voice. He was sitting in a leather-upholstered chair before a fire, stroking a thick goatee that gathered into a strange point below his chin. "Finally safe to rejoin us, isn't it?"

Hermione raised a single eyebrow but said nothing. "Actually, I am here to further a more intellectual pursuit, Andreus," Snape said smoothly.

"Oh? And what intellectual pursuits also require the company of such an attractive lady, Severus?"

Hermione's brows furrowed for a moment. _Did he just insult my intelligence?_ she asked herself. He almost won her over with his suave tone, but Hermione caught herself. _Only a Slytherin would try to use thinly veiled insults in order to compliment a new acquaintance_. Based on that deduction, Hermione reasoned that he was only going to be polite if he decided her acquaintance would come in handy. She stood straighter, unconsciously aware of the need to be more vigilant. _Moody would be proud_, she joked with herself.

"I've come to request a book your father owned, _Rings of Magic _by Belinda A. Ashcroft."

"Wait just a moment, Severus! Let's put the business on hold while you introduce me to your friend." Andreus gestured for them both to sit on seats close to the fire and fixed two red-rimmed blue eyes on Hermione, who looked back at him unwaveringly through her brown ones.

Hermione was fully capable of speaking for herself. "My name is Hermione Granger, sir. I am the reason we request this book."

"I am pleased to meet you, Miss Granger," the man said, taking her proffered hand and placing kisses up her forearm. "I am Andreus Maxwell Silverstone."

"Uh, likewise, Mr. Silverstone," Hermione said, fighting off a grimace. She wasn't sure, but his slobbery lips _may _have caused her stomach to froth a little.

Now was Snape's turn to raise an eyebrow, but he made no comment in regards to Andreus's fawning. He knew it was just the man's personality. "The book, Andreus?"

"Right, of course," he said, slowly facing Snape. It seemed as though he had to force his body to turn from Hermione. "My father, as you should know, never lent his books out, especially those as rare as this."

Shooting a brief glance at Hermione, Snape replied in a low voice, "I believe you owe me, Andreus… You know why."

"No, I do not. Please reiterate, Severus; I seem to have forgotten," Andreus said in a voice that contradicted the statement. He had a condescending grin on his face, evidently enjoying having the upper hand.

Snape's chest heaved. With bared teeth, he whispered savagely, "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be here."

"Oh, that? You seem to be forgetting the fact that _you_ owed that to _me_. I'll advise you not to forget it again. It is bad enough that we lost the Malfoys, but it would be a shame to lose _you_, Severus…"

Shaking his head furiously, Snape shot out of his seat. "Very well, Andreus. Good day to you." He looked at Hermione and jerked his head towards the door.

Instead of following, Hermione did something completely unexpected. "Please, sir, it's _very_ important," she said to Andreus, batting her eyelids. She was leaning forward, almost out of her seat. Snape's eyebrows rose very high when he followed the line of Hermione's arm. Her hand gripped Andreus's thigh tightly as she pleaded for the book.

The man kept his eyes locked on her. "Ah… Very well, Miss Granger." He pointed his wand straight out, to his left. "_Accio_." A red volume with a rugged cover flew from one of the uppermost shelves. "There you are, Severus. You can have five minutes with it."

Snape caught it in midair, and Hermione began to retreat from her position so close to Andreus. "Not so fast," he said. "I get five minutes with _you._"

Surprisingly, Snape gave her an alarmed look, but she widened her eyes meaningfully at him, nodding towards the book. Turning his back and trying to ignore the low grunts that Andreus emitted, Snape flipped to the book's index. The information desired was on page 871. Even in his haste, Snape was careful not to rip the book's thin pages.

_Votum Frangere_, was the section's heading, written in fancy calligraphy that curled across the page. The passage that followed was much smaller than expected, but Snape was not disappointed. He knew that even the smallest of things could be significant. It read:

_The _Votum Frangere _curse can only be cast by exceptionally powerful witches and wizards. It was first used in the sixteenth century by a notorious group of embittered spinsters as a means of establishing the power of women over their husbands. The curse works so that a woman may cleanly rid herself of an unfaithful or undesirable husband. A cursed ring will banish a husband to a place straddling the known and unknown. Likewise, the ring will also disappear to the last place her husband stood, making it imperative that a wife know her husband's whereabouts before banishing him. A wife can change her mind within seven days; if the ring is still not replaced after the seventh day, her husband will be lost forever. There is no known counter-curse to _Votum Frangere, _and once cast, the ring will be cursed forever._ _The curse has been illegal since 1742._

Snape committed the passage to memory, wishing he had some parchment on which to make notes. Glancing over at his company, he decided it would be best not to ask Andreus for another thing. The man's hands were tangled in Hermione's hair, pressing her face against his so he could forcefully kiss her. Uncomfortable, Snape cleared his throat. "I am finished."

Andreus did not appear to hear Severus, but Hermione definitely did. She had to pry the man's hands off her. "Oh, but I'm not," he said.

"I think you are," Hermione replied, looking disgusted. She stood. "Thank you, sir, but we'll be going now."

Andreus gave a devilish smirk. "Come back any time." The pair quickly left the room and followed a different house-elf to the door.

Neither said a word until they stepped outside. Snape was the first to speak. "I see you came in handy after all, Hermione."

Heat rose on Hermione's face, but she did not regret doing what she could to help her friends. "I'll thank you not to tell anyone about this," she said sternly. "Did you find what we needed?"

"I did." They were walking across the property again. The sun was setting, and the sky was slowly turning gray. "Do you know when Molly lost the ring?"

"Oh, it was last Sunday sometime. Why?"

"Today is Saturday. We have one day." he replied in a manner that surprised Hermione. Panic was edging its way into Snape's voice. "We must find Molly's ring."

"Oh, Merlin, one day? What will we do? She's already turned the Burrow upside down looking for it!"

"Please calm down, Hermione," he said, a little more worry becoming apparent in his voice. "We need to return to Grimmauld Place immediately. I will explain the curse to you while we walk to the edge of the property; then we will Apparate back."

Hermione listened diligently to the information Snape had retrieved about the curse. She wanted to soak in everything she could now that she knew there were only a matter of hours to find the ring. If it wasn't found in just over twenty-four hours, the world would be turned upside down for the Weasley family.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hi everybody! I began posting this fanfiction on my previous account, Repello Muggletum. For some reason, I have been unable to log into that account or recover its password since sometime last year. I hope my reposting it here doesn't annoy anyone too much! Anyway, even though I haven't worked on it in almost a year, I fully intend to finish this story sometime in the next three months._

* * *

We,  
A Harry Potter FanFiction by Bebe Flow,  
In which Severus Snape and Hermione Granger are brought together with the help of a few friends.  
This story takes place in the aftermath of the war, in which Voldemort has been defeated. Some characters have been allowed to live; others have been left in their graves. Still others who had once lived have now been killed. That is why it is fiction. I hope you enjoy. Without further ado...

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"This is grave," said Dumbledore, his usual cheeriness gone. Hermione held back tears from her seat facing the fire, and Snape--now silent--paced, having given an account of the events that took place at the Silverstone estate. "I sent Mundungus Fletcher to tell the aurors what they need to know."

"I'll help them," Hermione said.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Hermione. You must stay here and comfort our friends." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she nodded sadly. Hermione knew that the Weasleys would need all the support they could get if anything should happen.

"I'm afraid I must go," Snape said. "There is some business I need to attend to." Before Dumbledore or Hermione had a chance to speak, he was gone through the fireplace.

Dumbledore seemed not to be bothered by Snape's abrupt exit. "Let us go see if we can do anything for the Weasleys." Together, Dumbledore and Hermione entered the Burrow.

o

Dorgin looked at the homely ring in his hand with an odd expression on his face. "Look, it says 'All My Love,'" he repeated for the tenth or eleventh time. Across the table sat Thomas Murphy, looking amused. Dorgin hadn't said anything intelligent in a while, so Murphy leaned in close, as if to divulge something very important. Then with impressive speed, he plucked the ring from Dorgin's hand, saying in a low voice, "My precious…"

A high laugh rang in from the doorway. "Nice one, Murphy," Augusta Splitt said through Dorgin's protestations.

"What in Merlin's name was that about?" Dorgin complained. "Your bloody precious--_what_?"

"Don't tell me you've never heard of Lord of the Rings, Dorgin," Splitt said. He gave her a bewildered look. "Tolkein? Hobbits? Orcs? These words mean nothing to you?" Dorgin shrugged.

"It's a Muggle thing," Murphy offered. Realization dawned on Dorgin's face, and he gave a knowing nod. Splitt left the room muttering something about ignorant wizards who never look beyond what they can find in Flourish & Blotts.

Dorgin snatched the ring from Murphy's palm and gave his friend an odd look, as if to say "Muggle culture is very _interesting_." Instead, however, Dorgin took the eloquent route and said, "Hobbits 'n Orcs? What the _fuck_?"

o

"Where _is_ that man?" Gawain Robards said.

Augusta Splitt was leaning against an abandoned brick building in a village not far from Bill and Fleur Weasley's home. "He's over an hour late," she answered. "You sure this is where we were supposed to meet?"

"Yes, of course," Robards said in a pompous manner. "Dumbledore sent an owl saying that Mundungus Fletcher would meet us in Trench Alley at half-past two."

"Robards, you idiot! We're not in Trench Alley." Splitt leapt from her leaning place on the wall and started running. "Come on!"

"W-what?" Robards sputtered. Then, when Splitt was a few hundred meters away, he called out, "Wait for me!" and took off, the prominent vein in his forehead pulsing with each sprint. Shown up by an inferior yet again.

Fortunately, Trench Alley was not far across the small Muggle village in which they were supposed to meet Fletcher. Unfortunately, when they got there, Dung was nowhere to be found.

"This-this is not good. Not good at all," Robards said. "He could be anywhere."

Splitt looked at Robards in utmost irritation, wondering how on earth she had been overlooked to command this particular project. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes and quit her job on the spot, she said, "Well, we'll have to search for him. Check every pub and restaurant in town, Robards. I am going back to the house to send an owl to Dumbledore immediately."

The two Aurors went their separate ways, but as soon as Splitt rounded the corner, there was Mundungus Fletcher with a plate of Indian food at an outdoor café. He took a discreet sip from a hip flask as Augusta approached. "Mundungus Fletcher," she deadpanned. "Were you or were you not instructed to remain in Trench Alley until you relayed Dumbledore's message to the two Aurors who were to meet you there?"

"Now, don't be gettin' hyper, miss. Weren't we s'posed to meet an hour ago?" He lit up his pipe and pushed the plate of food away. "'m a busy man. Haven't got all day, you understand."

"I ought to arrest you for--"

"For what?" Fletcher laughed. "I'm not an Auror, and neither is Dumbledore. I said I'd deliver the message out of the goodness of my heart." Apparently, after an hour, Mundungus Fletcher's goodness ran dry. "Anyway, what will you be paying me with?"

A few incoherent utterances sounded from Augusta's mouth until she regained her composure. "Payment? I don't have to pay you a knut, Fletcher. This is Auror business!"

Mundungus looked bored. "What'll it be? Heirlooms? Plunder? Straight-up Galleons?"

"N-no. I'm afraid I don't have--"

"Then I'm afraid I can't give you the message, can I?" Augusta raised her wand, but she didn't look as though she had the will to cast any spells. Fletcher crossed his arms with an impatient air, as if ready to be done with the whole ordeal. "Look, are you going to pay or not? I've got clients to meet with who actually show up _on time_."

Augusta was still unable to say anything; her Auror training seemed to have left her. After all, despite the shadowy side of this man's reputation, he was an Order of Merlin holder, which was far more than she could say for herself. "In that case, I'll be going."

Fletcher held up his wand, making to disapparate. Before he had the chance, however, none other than Severus Snape appeared in front of him. "Just one second of your time, Fletcher," he said in a low voice.

"What is it, Snape?" Fletcher said, seeming to perk up. He had definitely dealt with the professor before.

Snape, however, addressed Augusta. "I take it you've failed to offer compensation?"

Augusta faltered yet again. "I-I don't have any--" If Mundungus Fletcher's fame had stunned her, Severus Snape left her paralyzed.

"Enough," he cut her off. "You can go, Fletcher," Snape said, derision evident in his voice. The crook rolled his bloodshot eyes and disapparated. He turned to Augusta again. "I don't know why that old fool sent _him_ to deliver a message this important to your case. Molly Weasley is missing her wedding ring. You do not need to know _why_ it is needed, only that it is imperative--both for the sake of Arthur Weasley's life and _your_ reputation--that it is found by tomorrow morning."

Augusta snapped out of her starstruck daze. "R-ring? A wedding ring? Merlin!" She leapt to her feet. "We've already found it! Follow me!" Snape appeared surprised for a few seconds, and then he sprang into action. The odd duo apparated to Bill and Fleur Weasley's cottage.

Augusta was fearful that Snape would actually carry out his threat that her reputation would be ruined if she did not succeed. She had been a seventh year student the year Snape started teaching, so she was familiar with his intimidation techniques. Nonetheless, it was very daunting to have someone so powerful--not to mention famous--breathing down her neck.

For Snape's own part, he felt that if he was instrumental in saving Arthur Weasley, it would go towards his increasingly difficult to attain redemption. Sure, he had an Order of Merlin, but for every one positive recognition he achieved, there were twenty naysayers ready to pounce the second he blinked his eyes incorrectly. If he had to tell the truth, Snape would be forced to admit that he found public attention rather intimidating. One can only imagine how overwhelming _negative_ public attention would be, especially received on a nearly daily basis.

"Well, here's your first problem," Snape said when they reached the property. "Whoever is in charge of this mission is doing a terrible job." He opened the door as if it were his own. "Your esteemed title does not give you permission to treat this house as your own just because its owners are elsewhere," he said. Bill and Fleur Weasley had traveled back to the Burrow the night before.

Augusta said nothing as she stepped inside. A pale Thomas Murphy was in the sitting room, looking up with a worried expression as Snape and Splitt entered the room. "It's gone," he said. "Vanished."

"What vanished?" Augusta asked. She seemed to be somewhat more in her element now that Snape was on her turf.

"Ask Dorgin," Murphy said. "He's in there." The man pointed to a closed door, which Snape approached with purpose. Splitt seemed to understand--or at least she thought she did--and followed much more slowly.

o

"What did I do to deserve this?" Molly Weasley wailed into Minerva McGonagall's arms. She had just been told the news.

The professor, trying to allay the sobbing woman, said, "You don't deserve this, dear, but you've got to be strong for your children."

Molly nodded and pulled away, still hiccoughing sobs. She tried to wipe her persistently running nose and swiped at a few tears. "I just… I can't picture a life w-w-without Arthur. He was m-my everythin-ing"

Minerva smiled sadly. "In time, everything will be alright." She gave Molly a squeeze. It seemed to be the strength Molly needed. She stood, waved her wand in front of her face to remove the signs of tears, and went into the parlor.

Arthur's hand on the clock pointed to "lost," as it had for almost an entire week. The rest of the Weasley family looked very grave, Ginny close to tears. Hermione held her friend's hand, Harry held the other, and Dumbledore stood at the back of the room. He seemed to understand that there was little he could do to boost the Weasley morale at this point.

Molly looked at her children, whose faces she had memorized since birth. In her mind, she had mapped the changes in them, so subtle to an outsider but to her so abrupt. She remembered marveling at their tiny forms, celebrating nature's innovation. She had been startled that seven distinct individuals could emerge from the love of two.

Remembering the thoughts of her younger self brought Molly to a realization: Between Arthur and her children, there were eight equal parts to her everything. Even if she lost Arthur, seven parts remained, and they would all grow to fill the void Arthur left behind. This new realization made her feel strengthened and determined, able to triumph over her blackest doubts.

That is, until Severus Snape entered the room.

The Weasley family vigil came to a halt as soon as Snape opened his mouth. "Dumbledore," he said. "May I have a word?"

The matriarch of the family had demonstrated such strength to her children that they seemed to become calmer every minute she didn't cry. That being said, it came as quite a shock when Ron burst out, his voice heartbreakingly breaking, "Spare us the wait and tell us all the bad news, Snape!"

Dumbledore froze. Harry glared at Snape a bit (old habit), and Hermione's breath stilled as she stole a glance at her friend. McGonagall's lips became a whole lot thinner. As the tension summited, Ginny Weasley gave a mortal gasp.

"We were too late," Snape said at length. His quiet voice lent such a hopeless finality that everyone knew it must be true. The Weasleys looked stunned. "It appears that Arthur took the ring to have it inscribed, and it was lost on the coast…" He paused, then muttered lowly, "I'm sorry…" There was another pause, and it was clear that Snape had no idea what to say in such a situation. "I trust Dumbledore filled you in on the implications of this ring being lost." He looked around the room with increasing uncertainty, unsure of whether to continue.

The family hothead spoke up again. "Just leave, Snape! You've done your damage--now leave!" Ron was doing his best to comfort his mother, whose seemingly resolute strength dropped like a trapdoor from beneath her feet and left her in a heap on the floor.

Snape nodded in a careful way and took a measured glance at Dumbledore, who met his eyes sympathetically. He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with Hermione, whose eyes were surely as filled with tears as the rest of the Weasley family. Snape left the Burrow and walked to the edge of the property, his shoulders sagging. With a heavy sigh, he disapparated back to Spinner's End.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hello, readers! It's been a loooong time since I've updated this fic. I meant to finish it in the summer of 2009... Oops... :/ Anyway, I'm going to try to start working on it regularly since it will bother me if I never finish it. I've got some ideas as to where things are headed, so hopefully updates won't be too slow. I really appreciate the comments I've received so far - thank you! :)_

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

The Weasleys stood beneath the eaves of the funeral home as a faint drizzle fell on the parking lot. Arthur Weasley's memorial service had been tastefully done, but now that it was over, the crowd that had shown up to pay their respects was slowly thinning. Harry Potter discreetly cast a drying charm on the damp group and was gratified when he noticed their teeth didn't chatter quite as much. Then he concentrated on keeping dry himself, particularly his face. Arthur had been like a father to him, and it was nigh unbearable to have lost the man so soon.

Hermione felt rather selfish for being so close to tears. _How does Harry keep his composure like that?_ she wondered. Her parents were still alive and well, but Harry had to count his losses again and again. First his own parents, then the Dursleys, now this… _Not as if the Dursleys really count_, she reminded herself._ But still_. She gripped Ginny's hand tighter and willed herself not to cry.

The Weasleys themselves were holding up particularly well. Molly had allowed herself a good crying session on the day they found out, but today was really the only time it had happened since. As for the younger Weasleys, they had all shed their own private tears in the past few days, determined to be strong for their mother. Even Hermione had yet to see her best friend actually _cry_ about her father's death.

But was it really a death?

Hermione's ruminations on this question had kept her up for hours after the rest of the world slept. All of the aspects of the _Votum Frangere_ curse added up, but there was no way to know if that was the reason Arthur Weasley had disappeared. The small amount of information that had been dug up about the curse mentioned nothing about the ring disappearing as well, nor did it account for why Arthur Weasley didn't disappear until he was already at Bill and Fleur's cottage.

Yet, there had been no trace of Mr. Weasley found. _It's almost improbable that he's still alive_, the negative half of Hermione's mind thought. The positive half soon edged its way in: _But there is always hope_. It broke her heart that the Weasleys would probably never get the closure they deserved.

Hermione noted with brief annoyance that Ron was staring malevolently at a dark figure at the front of the crowd who was quickly retreating. Of course, she said nothing but gave a weak smile to Great Aunt Muriel, who with the help of Septimus Weasley was soothing the family of the deceased. They needed a private moment by the looks of it, so she went after the object of Ron's glares.

For all of his quickness, the man hadn't gotten far. He appeared not to see her when Hermione crossed the street, for his pace didn't slow until she spoke up. "Snape! Severus!"

He turned, half a block away by now, and squinted at her until his face smoothed into recognition. He waited until she caught up and said, "Hello."

"Aren't you coming to the luncheon?"

He shook his head, careful not to look at Hermione so as to avoid the look of disappointment on her face. "I don't think that would be very appropriate."

"Why not?" she said, schooling her features into indifference. _What do I care if he comes?_ she thought._ It's not like he was a close friend_.

"I have a prior engagement," he said simply.

"That's a terrible answer." Hermione and Snape walked to a nearby building and used its eaves as protection against the strengthening rain. "If it's about what Ron said the other day--"

Snape laughed darkly. "As if I care a rap for what Mr. Weasley has to say."

"Good. Of course. But I mean," she tried again. "If you _did_ care--You shouldn't. Ron's never learnt not to kill the messenger, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, of _course_ I know." Snape looked up at the sky as if to discern the time, though the sun was invisible through the clouds. "I must go. Please give the Weasley family my regards." With that, the man briskly walked away. Hermione shook her head and wondered why she had even bothered.

o

The 1998-99 Hogwarts term started as any other year, with a few exceptions. Since Fred and George left school to open their joke shop, there had been a sharp decline in the number of carrot topped students walking the halls. Ginny had decided, to the hushed disappointment of her family, not to return for her final year.

Minerva McGonagall, who had developed quite a soft spot for the large family since she became a Hogwarts professor, privately nicknamed it The Year Without A Weasley. She sadly acknowledged that another Weasley would not be causing mischief at Hogwarts again for quite some time. Not that the Transfiguration professor didn't want Ginny Weasley to be happy; it was just that the young witch displayed abilities well ahead of her peers, and Minerva had hoped to take her on as an apprentice one day…

_Only pipe dreams, I suppose_, Minerva said to herself as she walked down a groaning flight of stairs. _I _do_ have almost two decades to find a replacement…_Another flight of stairs and a few corridors later, Minerva was entering the dungeons. _Warm down here for November_, she thought. The Bloody Baron nodded as he passed, probably on his way to the Slytherin common room. Rumor among students was that Snape sent him around once in a while to do a little spying. Of course it wasn't true. The same rumor went around when Slughorn was Head of Slytherin. Minerva smirked. _Although, knowing Severus, it could be true._

She rapped on the door a few times before it swung open. Severus was putting a jacket on over a ratty t-shirt, making sure to button it to the top. Minerva smirked; the man's sense of propriety was as old-fashioned as Helena Ravenclaw's. She'd even seen the two chatting once or twice. Really, for a man who had such trouble getting on with others, he _was_ rather friendly with the ghosts…

Minerva looked over Snape's shoulder into the room. From what she could see, it was immaculately clean aside from a mass of papers and books on his desk. "Hello, Severus."

"Minerva. I'm a bit busy right now…" Snape said, blocking the doorway in a manner that prevented any cunning sidesteps. He'd gotten used to her tricks since he began teaching.

"Severus, I know for a fact that you have been sleeping all day. Mitzi told me so herself." Minerva had made it a habit to get to know the house-elves after she heard about how Dobby had helped Harry Potter in the war. They were extremely useful for gossip, in any case. She and Pomona and Poppy regularly enjoyed sharing whatever silly gossip they heard in the staffroom over tea.

Snape looked upset, but not as angry as she expected him to be. In fact, he looked very weary and not at all like someone who had slept through the afternoon. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to remind you of the Order meeting this evening." The Order of the Phoenix was still alive and strong--perhaps stronger since the end of the war. However, there was still a sizable Death Eater population preparing for another miraculous recovery from Lord Voldemort, whom they seemed to think was only on bed rest. Since the Aurors proved time and time again to be somewhat unreliable, the Order had taken it upon themselves to round up the rest of the reptilian man's followers.

Sensing that Snape was about to object, Minerva added quickly, "Before you complain, Severus, I would have reminded you earlier but you were having your lie-in. Nonetheless, it is important for everyone to be there."

Snape was not one to forget things like this. His entire existence as a spy was largely dependant on his ability to keep dates and times straight. The man ran a hand through his hair, which was a great deal more unkempt than usual, and muttered, "Of course, Minerva. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Excellent. As we are already behind, do you mind if we both use your fire? There is no time to walk to the Apparition point." Snape grudgingly nodded his consent and let the woman inside.

"So this is why Mitzi was happy when I told her we were going to leave for a bit," McGonagall said after a glance around the room. There were cups and plates stacked on the coffee table along with odd scraps of parchment. On the sofa was a large pile of blankets and robes.

Minerva shot Severus a look, which he chose to ignore. "Come, Minerva, you said we are running late." The pair went into the fireplace. In the next moment, they stepped out into the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place.

It seemed everyone else had already arrived. Snape frowned as he took a seat next to Minerva. He tried not to make a spectacle of himself at these things. "Excellent," Albus said from the head of the table. "Now that everyone is here, we can get down to business."

"It has been brought to my attention that Morag McDougal is looking for help in locating a few items of significant historical value. She asks that anyone willing to do research or help in searching contact her as soon as possible." Hermione Granger's ears perked up. She was definitely interested. Minerva also seemed rather intrigued, though she usually had very little time to devote to extra-curricular research.

"Next, there has been suspicious activity outside of London. It is probably nothing to worry about, but just to be safe, I would like Tonks and Harry to plan for a visit to see what is going on." Harry had recently passed the exams to join the ranks of the Aurors, to no one's surprise. He had the skill and determination to make a good Auror. Harry and Tonks exchanged glances and nodded their acceptance of the mission.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "That seems to be all for now. Let us partake of this feast that Molly has so kindly prepared."

The spread she had prepared was delicious indeed; the mere sight of it set many mouths to watering. The chatter that sprung up around the dinner table was of a much more joyous tone than could be said for more recent Order gatherings. The Weasleys seemed to be getting on well enough to evade Albus Dumbledore's ever watchful eyes. Such was not the case, however, for the unfortunate potions professor. "You're looking rather peaky today, Severus," Dumbledore accused as if it were the worst thing in the world to be peaky.

Snape stopped mid-bite and heaved a sigh. "Is that so?"

"A bit of rest would do you well," said Dumbledore with a nod.

Minerva raised an eyebrow when Snape said nothing. Usually he vehemently denied questions of illness or weariness. Perhaps this was a clue that something more than just being tired or sick was at hand…


End file.
